


Shake It

by smallerontheoutside (theinvisiblequestion)



Series: Playlist [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisiblequestion/pseuds/smallerontheoutside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's not in love with Clarke. He's not. He just has a thing for angry blondes.</p><p>(Inspired by Metro Station's song of the same name.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake It

TonDC’s scheduled to play live again, and for once, Bellamy doesn’t totally hate having to dress up like half a savage, because maybe, just maybe, Clarke will come back to the club for the third Friday in a row. He smears his warpaint on a little thicker than usual, remembering the way it got all over her face the first time they kissed.

He plays the whole show, and the stage lights are hot and Bellamy tries not to notice how often Lincoln looks at the stage-left side of the crowd, where Octavia’s in her own savage-inspired outfit and face paint. It’s not that he doesn’t like Lincoln; he just doesn’t like Lincoln banging his little sister, even if she is technically a “grown-ass woman.” Bellamy searches the crowd after every song, but he doesn’t see Clarke. He doesn’t see anyone, not really, just a writhing mess of college kids avoiding midterms and essays.

Octavia’s waiting in the tiny backstage area when TonDC’s set is over, and she gives Bellamy a hug first. “You were great, as usual.”

“Thanks, O.”

“Saw you looking a little lost there at the end, though. Anyone in particular?” Octavia sidles up close to him, smirking, and elbows him in the ribs.

Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Is it the blonde? I saw you macking on her after the last show.”

“Octavia, seriously.”

Octavia looks him over, arching an eyebrow. “Have you seen her since then?”

“O, just drop it.” He’s never in his life looked to Lincoln for anything regarding Octavia, but he’s getting desperate. “Don’t you have someone else to congratulate on a good show?”

“Oh, _man_.” Octavia grins wickedly. “Bellamy’s in _loooove_.”

“Octavia!”

She skips off, and he can hear her repeating it to Jasper and Monty and Miller and Lincoln and he’s going to kill her, he really is, but first he needs a drink because gigs are hard work and second he needs to sit down because now he’s thinking about Clarke and her hair, and her face, and kissing her, and—

She’s in his booth. She’s _sitting_ in his _booth_. She’s been here the whole fucking time and he didn’t even see her because he’s a moron. She’s got the remains of a drink in front of her, and she looks bored as hell.

“Clarke, what are you doing here?”

“Having a drink,” she says. “What do you think?”

He clears his throat and reminds himself that warpaint and lovesick puppy face don’t mix, and no he’s not in _love_ with her. “And here I thought you came for the peanuts.”

She glares. Bellamy feels his insides melt under the force of her glare.

“Do you hide from that greaser ex of yours _every_ Friday?”

She shifts, and her fingers tighten around her drink. “I don’t want to talk about Finn.”

Bellamy slides into the booth. “Then don’t talk, princess.”

Clarke looks ready to kill him, and Bellamy really doesn’t know if she can look any hotter. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to get that shit off my face?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “I’m the one wearingit.”

She stares at him, anger and fire in her eyes. She runs a finger through his face paint and smears it on his nose. He sits motionless as she takes his warpaint and smears it wherever on his face she feels like, and then when she’s done, she gives him something approximating a smile. The end of her finger is black, but she tangles it in his hair anyway when they kiss, and when she pulls away from him, there’s a _design_ on her face instead of just random smudges and when he realizes _she_ did that, he knows he’s a goner.

He knows where this is going. He knows where this _should_ be going, and that’s out the door and around the corner and up the stairs to his apartment. She knows where this is going, too, because she tries to pull away from him and _leave_.

“Clarke, wait.” He pulls her back into his lap and skates his fingers up her back, under her shirt.

“We can’t do this,” she says.

“Not _here_ , no. But I know a place right around the corner.”

Clarke hesitates, like she’s going to shoot him down, and he would be _so_ gone if she did and he wouldn’t even care. But she doesn’t. “What kind of a place?”

“My place.”

“Better than mine,” she mutters.

Bellamy’s not sure how they manage to make it all the way to his apartment building _and_ up three flights of stairs _and_ past two locked doors with all their clothes still on, but as soon as he locks his bedroom door, they’re pulling each other’s clothes off as fast as they can. All their clothes land in a pile somewhere near the door, and Bellamy’s so used to taking charge that it throws him off when Clarke takes the lead, even though that’s all she’s done for the last three weeks.

Even though they’ve been at a game of kiss-and-touch for over an hour, Clarke is still full of fire and destruction and he knows it’s probably got nothing to do with him; she needs someone to take it out on, and he is so okay with being that someone. He fumbles through his nightstand for a condom, but she just shoves him onto his bed, murmuring about she’s got it covered, and he really hopes she does because he doesn’t want to be destroyed like _that_.

She tears him apart, and his higher brain functions are shot all to hell, and he doesn’t want to fall asleep because that’s _lame_ , but she falls asleep on him so he figures it’s not that bad. He’s not one to cuddle or snuggle or actually sleep after brain-jellying, _amazing_ sex, but damned if he’s going to do something as stupid as defy the princess.

(He wakes up as she’s leaving; she says nothing to him, and he lays awake for an hour just thinking about how much of a train wreck this is going to turn out to be.)

 


End file.
